


Toothbrush Conversations

by Evalie_Soto (Missalyssasecret)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, SpaceBoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missalyssasecret/pseuds/Evalie_Soto
Summary: This was always Hugh's favorite time with Paul.A collection of conversations Paul and Hugh had at the bathroom mirror, getting ready for bed.
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 100
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning with the first mirror conversation. What they said, and what they actually meant.

"Stop."

> _Can't we drop this, please?_

"Stop what?"

> _No._

"Stop worrying. Stop doctoring"

> _I'm fine._

"Well, one tends to worry when they're doomed to love a brilliant but reckless maniac, who's willing to risk his life for glory."

> _I could have lost you._

"The Captain was in danger."

> _I'm sorry._

"Captains are in danger every day."

> _I know._

"You were in danger."

> _Please don't ever stop loving me._

"I've spent my entire career trying to grasp the essence of mycelium. Now, for the first time I do. I saw the network, an entire universe of possibilities I never dreamed existed. It's unspeakably beautiful."

> _I wish I could show you._

"Also, I knew you'd leave me if I let anything else endanger that creature."

> _Losing you would destroy me._

"Oh, so you do listen to me?"

> _I'm not going anywhere._

"Not really. You sold that with a look."

> _Are we okay?_

"Don't do anything that stupid ever again. You may not care about you, but I do."

> _Yes._

"You sure you feel okay?"

> _I love you._

"Yes, dear doctor. I feel okay."

> _I love you too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anthony's inflection on the "You were in danger" line never ceases to make me feel things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise these won't all be dialogue-only!

"Hugh?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did we change the sheets last week?"

"HiNoNgo."

"...what? I didn't understand- oh."

"Angon."

"Sorry."

*spit*

"Sorry babe. Ummm, I don't know if we did."

"I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"I can understand you when you're talking with my-"

"Are you going to compare understanding sex-related communication during a blowjob versus me brushing my teeth?"

"Uhh. Yes?"

"Don't know if I buy that."

"Well, we can always test the theory. Collect some more data. Perform a thorough...analysis."

"Excellent suggestion, Doctor Stamets."

"Thank you, Doctor Culber. Shall we head to the lab and run an experiment?"

"...please don't refer to the bed as a lab."

"Test bed?"

*groan*

"That was terrible even for you."

"You love my puns."

"Beside the point."

"Anyway. Who's going first?"

"Well, since it started with me..."

"Please, carry on." 

"You're lucky you're pretty, now be quiet and let me."

"Oka- ohhhhhhh. Mmmmm. Definitely a good idea."

" 'ut 'up."

"Shutting up."


	3. Chapter 3

Brushing one's teeth is something most people consider an activity on autopilot. Luckily for Hugh, he's one of them, because the majority of his attention is directed at trying to keep from melting into Paul's embrace. He has both arms around Hugh's waist, head resting on one shoulder and the rest of his body a long line of heat from neck to knees. Every breath pushes against those arms, protected and contained instead of confining.

Paul is humming, swaying in place a little. Most of the crew have no idea what a lovely voice he really has, and it's a struggle to keep his eyes open and the toothbrush moving. Hugh can't quite place the tune, but it's not important.

At last, he finishes and rinses his mouth, amused when Paul simply leans over with him instead of letting go. He's half-hard, groin pressed tight to Hugh's ass, and it feels more like a consequence of their position than an attempt to start something.

"Done yet?"

He can't quite see Paul's face in the mirror, but his mind fills in the blanks with a soft smile and sleepy eyes.

"Depends. If I say yes, will you stop?"

"Mmmm. Only if you want me to."

Hugh covers Paul's hands with his own, squeezing his arms tighter around himself. 

"What's gotten into you lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just...different," he murmurs, letting Paul's motion rock them both, "I'm not complaining."

"I wish you could see it."

Paul's tone is wistful, a little bit sad, and that gets his attention immediately.

"See what?"

"Coming out of the network. I can see so much more now, the pathways and possibilities. They're bright and amazing, but you..." a kiss on the back of Hugh's neck, "you're like...you shine, Hugh."

"Sweethea-"

"I don't see it all the time, but I remember it. Maybe someday I'll find a way to show you."

He gently loosens Paul's arms enough to turn in the circle of his embrace. 

"What's it like?"

"Golden. Like that one bit of sunlight on a dark day. And when you touch me," he runs his fingers over Hugh's lips in a whisper-light caress, "I can feel it."

This is the man Hugh knows is under all of the layers of snark and obsessive thinking, the one he's rarely seen since the war started. He knows Paul loves him, but he's not used to him being so...open with his adoration. It's not an unwelcome change, it's just going to take some adjusting.

"Okay."

"No 'this is another side effect we need to go take readings on'?"

"No, I think this is all you."


	4. Chapter 4

"What?"

The question is rhetorical - Paul's smiling at him around the toothbrush in his mouth, and the warmth in his eyes tells Hugh he knows exactly what he's thinking. Hugh doesn't reply, just continues with his evening routine - rinsing, washing his face, and closing the cabinet on his side. When he sets down the washcloth, Paul's still watching, hand poised halfway between the sink and his head.

"Going to finish?"

"Huh?" 

"It usually works better if you put it in your mouth."

They're standing close enough that he can see the moment the double entendre registers, the barest hint of a sharp inhale and a flush spreading over Paul's cheeks. His eyes flicker down to glance below Hugh's waist, breathing picking up speed when he sees the way Hugh has one hip canted against the counter so that the thin sleep pants drape over his...assets. Teasing Paul is an endless source of pleasure and it's a direction that he's more than happy to go, but not quite yet.

He reaches out and plucks the toothbrush from Paul's hand, setting it down and facing the mirror again. 

"Hugh?"

He waits for Paul to match his position, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently.

"What is it?"

"Shhhh. Just...look at us, sweetheart."

Paul licks his lips, head tilted in slight confusion, but complies.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Hugh is lost. There aren't words to describe how he feels in that moment. Something as simple as seeing their reflections side by side at the bathroom counter, dressed in standard 'fleet issue pajamas and brushing their teeth, is more profound than most declarations of love. 

No more desperate shore leaves packed full of touching to make up for its absence the rest of the time, late night comms and too-short postings nearby, a few hours stolen here and there. They've had weeks and months together, but co-habitation has never had any permanence until Discovery, always counting down to the end of a posting or new mission. After years of long separations, they're together for good. Finally. 

They've made it work for this long - and it's been work in every sense of the word - and he knows it won't necessarily be smooth sailing from here. They'll agree and disagree, maybe even fight. That's a given in any relationship, and he's not naive enough to think they'll be spared. Today is barely a week into Discovery's first mission and once the shiny newness wears off, he's sure they'll squabble over Hugh's tendency to leave clothes on the floor and Paul's habit of working at all hours. 

Right now though, just standing at the mirror getting ready for bed together in their quarters _(theirs...)_ , he hopes for a lifetime of this, the quiet affection and just being together in each other's space. He can look forward to waking up beside this man, falling asleep in his arms, coming home to him without the impending stress of another separation looming. 

Together.

"You can keep contemplating life from the bed, Hugh."

He's drawn out of his reverie when Paul lifts their joined hands to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of Hugh's wrist. Paul makes to lead him out of the bathroom, and Hugh tugs him to a stop a half-step later.

"Is everything okay?"

A frown creases Paul's nose, and that just won't do. He shakes his head, smiling to let him know that it's nothing bad.

"I just...us. Ours. Seeing us. You know what I mean?" 

Hugh's not normally at a loss for words, but this feels at once too significant and too simple to explain. Paul hums in thought, eyes gone distant for a few breaths. When he refocuses, the frown disappears, replaced with a look of understanding. He draws Hugh closer, wraps his free hand around the back of his head to pull him in for a kiss. It's chaste, solemn, and perfect. 

"Yes, dear doctor. I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Paul and Hugh have been in a committed relationship for years, but much of that has been physically separated due to Paul's planet-based research and Hugh serving on starships.


	5. Chapter 5

"How's your legion of cadets working out?"

Paul gives Hugh a mournful look, but doesn't stop brushing. 

"That bad, ehh? After all that time you spent picking them out especially for the project, and none of them...?"

Hugh uses the palm of his hand to scrub a circle clear in the condensation on the mirror. At his side, Paul is little more than an amorphous shape until he swats Hugh’s elbow with a towel and gestures with his eyebrows. It's the same message he's conveyed forever: _Use the towel, not your hand._

Shaking his head, Hugh gives the mirror a cursory wipe across its breadth before dropping the towel on the counter. He heads out into their quarters, retrieving his pajamas. They cling to his damp post-shower skin, and pulling the shirt over his head means he only catches the tail end of Paul's next comment.

"-just that one."

"Huh? Sorry babe, didn't hear you."

Paul's bent over washing the product from his hair, but the next sentence carries over the running water.

"I said, the one you helped me pick out isn't bad. The rest are...so limited and can't see the possibilities. Just that one."

"Oh, you mean- what's her name? Salma? No, wait, it's Sylvie, isn't it."

He picks up his own toothbrush, not waiting for Paul to vacate his spot in front of the sink, hips nudging together.

"...Tilly. Sylvia Tilly. And she talks incessantly, but at least what she says is intelligent even if she has to share every thought."

"Awww, no fiylllkuuhhr?"

"Try removing the object in your mouth before speaking," Paul can't suppress the wicked smile they share at the reference, "I thought we established it worked better that way."

Hugh rinses and closes the cabinet before replying.

"I said, no filter?"

Paul's in the middle of rubbing a towel briskly over his wet hair, but apparently he can understand Hugh this time.

"Nope. But she's brilliant."

Crossing his arms, Hugh turns to face him, leaning back on the counter.

"Oh? You actually like somebody for once?"

It's a gentle tease, one very few people would believe that Paul would let pass, and narrowing down "very few" to one always leaves Hugh.

"We'll see," Paul mutters pensively, "there's still so much to do."

Hugh pushes off the counter, heading for bed with Paul a step or two behind. The sheets are cool, but warm quickly around them, bodies curled towards each other like a set of parentheses. 

"Night love," Hugh murmurs, kissing Paul's forehead as he snuggles closer.

"Mmmm."

"Computer, lights off."

"Love you," Paul brushes his lips over Hugh's jaw, "g'night."

"Love you too. Go to sleep, you can tell me more in the morning."

" 'mkay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist making Tilly stand out from the other cadets from the beginning. My headcanon is that Paul originally wasn't sure because her recorded statement about why she wanted to be involved in the research was very...Tilly. Hugh watched it with him and thought she sounded the right kind of enthusiastic, so he convinced Paul to say yes.


	6. Chapter 6

“What are you doing?”

Paul’s head whips around so fast it would be comical if Hugh didn’t catch the wince.

”Careful babe, you’ll hurt your neck like that.”

Hugh steps into the bathroom, the PADD he’d been intending to retrieve forgotten on the table when he caught sight of Paul at the mirror. His lover had been standing with his back mostly turned to it, torso twisting and neck craned around oddly. It almost looked like he was trying to see the back of his head, but that wouldn’t make any sense.

”You’re the one who snuck up on me.”

The sink goes on, and Hugh raises an eyebrow as Paul picks up his toothbrush with a huff. 

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong.”

”Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paul mutters unconvincingly before shoving his toothbrush into his mouth, suddenly engrossed in cleaning his molars.

Sighing, Hugh rolls his eyes dramatically and joins him. The only sound for a minute is the sonic whir, and he notices how Paul is very unsuccessfully trying to avoid his gaze in the mirror. 

“Going to tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?”

Paul’s lips compress into a tight line, and Hugh drops the showy exasperation. Something is really bothering his love, and he’s not sure what it could be.

Hugh considers the evidence on Paul’s side of the counter - a damp towel from drying his hair after washing the product from it, a comb, and an open container of gel.

Hmmm. That’s odd.

There’s no reason for any styling product to be out before bed, that’s part of their morning routine. Anyone else, he might assume it was left out all day, but Paul’s too fastidious even when he’s rushed or half-asleep to do something that mundane. 

Paul’s turned to leave the room, but Hugh reaches out to gently snag his elbow before he gets too far. It’s a light hold, one that definitely isn’t meant to keep him in place, but ought to let him know that Hugh’s concerned.

”Sweetheart...”

”It’s nothing,” Paul’s forced dismissiveness isn’t at all reassuring, “I’m fine.”

”Because that’s exactly what you say when you’re not okay. Talk to me, love. It’s not the drive, is it-“

He’s shaking his head before Hugh can finish the thought.

”No, no it’s nothing like that. I promise.”

”I’d feel better if you’d look at me and say that.”

Paul still has his back turned, and Hugh steps around him under they’re face to face. He curves a hand around the back of Paul’s neck, searching his eyes for an answer.

”I’m fine, Hugh.”

There’s nothing in his expression to indicate he’s not telling the truth, but that’s still not an answer.

”Sweetheart,” he tugs gently until Paul follows him to the bed and sits down on the edge beside him, “I believe you. But something is bothering you, don’t pretend it’s not.”

Paul closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again they’re full of frustration.

”My hair.”

”...what?”

That’s not what Hugh was expecting to hear. Not that he had an expectation anyway, but still.

”What about your hair?”

It’s wild without product, damp and curling in places, tufts sticking out on the sides from a vigorous toweling. There’s nothing out of the ordinary from how it looks most nights before bed though, so he’s at a loss.

”It’s getting thin. In the back.”

Hugh’s brain, previously busy pursuing several avenues of potential Paul-problems, screeches to a halt.

“Are you sure?”

Not the most intelligent reply, but he’s not sure what else to say. 

“Yeah. See?”

Paul turns halfway around, and Hugh blinks in surprise. His hair has certainly changed color over the years, whether it was from the sun on a planetside posting or the occasional temporary decision to return to the strawberry blond of his much younger days, but Hugh’s never thought much about its thickness. Now that he’s properly looking though, it is a bit thinner at the crown, the pink flush of the skin below starting to show through. He reaches out to run a hand through the fine strands, then nudges Paul’s shoulder to get him to turn back.

His partner’s expression is two parts wry self-deprecation and one surprisingly large part self-conscious trepidation. Hugh knows intimately just how fragile Paul’s confidence is in certain things, makes sure to give his body extra attention in places he’s insecure about, lavishing the soft parts of his stomach with kisses and caressing the solid thickness of his hips. He’s not shallow enough to be bothered by any of the signs of age - neither of them are as young as they used to be - but he does understand.

”It’s normal, you know,” he answers conversationally, neither mounting an immediate disagreement (potentially misinterpreted as patronizing) or dismissing the concern.

”I still don’t like it. It makes me feel...” Paul frowns, staring down at their joined hands, “it makes me feel like you’re going to wake up one day and wonder why you’re sharing your bed with a middle-aged guy who studies mushrooms when you’re just- beautiful.”

”Sweetheart-“

”And I know you don’t feel that way- and you’d never make me think that and I know it’s not true, but days like today Hugh...I just. Yeah.”

He falls silent, and Hugh bites the inside of his cheek, looking for the right words.

”Paul,” he waits for the relatively rare use of his name to get his partner’s attention, “I fell in love with _you,_ not just the parts on the outside but everything. And I love your body too, it turns me on so much, because it’s yours. All of it, even the things you don’t like so much.”

Paul’s lips quirk in a rueful smile.

”I know. But knowing doesn’t make my brain not say things even when I know better. Sorry to be so...weird about it.”

“I signed on for all of you, love.”

Hugh tugs Paul down onto the bed, rearranging them both under the covers until they’re curled together, face to face sharing a pillow.

”Need me to tell your brain to quit it?”

That earns him a real smile.

”I’m okay, Hugh. Really.”

“Sure? We can keep talking if you want.”

Paul shakes his head, frown settling out into minor annoyance.

”It’ll be better tomorrow after I sleep. I think. Just a long day, and adding it on top of everything else sucked.”

”You’ll tell me if it’s still bothering you.”

It’s not a question, and despite the soft tone he knows Paul understands.

”Yeah. I will.”

”Okay. Computer, lights.”

He waits for Paul to settle in more comfortably, then closes the four inches between them for a kiss. 

“Sleep well, love.”

”Love you.”

”Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who’s dealt with self-doubt manifesting in various ways as a side effect of the things that make me good at what I do, we all need a Hugh of our own.


	7. Chapter 7

"How was your day?"

"Wha-?"

Paul gives him a pleased smile.

"You're really cute like that."

Focusing on his reflection in the mirror, he can see the tip of his tongue extended just past his lower lip, toothbrush hovering halfway into his mouth. At his side, Paul is laughing quietly, eyes shining with mirth. The giggle is a rarity, and Hugh feels a rush of affection filling his chest at the sound.

"You," he pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth, "did that on purpose. That's supposed to be my line."

His partner's expression is altogether too guileless to be anything but an admission of guilt. Hugh shakes his head in mock-despair, then turns back to cleaning his teeth. Paul does the same and the air between them falls silent, just the sound of water splashing as they both rinse.

Neither of them speak again until they're in bed, Hugh settling under the covers with a groan. Paul rolls onto his side, head propped on one hand. 

"I was seriously asking, though. You look...worn out."

He blows out a long breath, not disagreeing with the assessment.

"Just one hell of a day. Half our staff is down with the Vulcan measles, and we had an accident in one of the labs. Someone managed to synthesize an unstable element, and wasn't working in the right containment level."

"Were they-?"

"They're fine now," Hugh rubs the bridge of his nose, sore from squinting through surgery, "but I was on my feet fourteen hours."

"They were lucky to have you on call."

"All I wanted to do was come home and climb in bed with you. Thanks for staying up until I got back."

On the pillow beside him, Paul's eyes are heavy with drowsy contentment.

"Of course-" he's interrupted by a huge yawn, "I needed to tuck you in."

"Are you in the lab tomorrow?"

He has to wait longer than expected for the response, until Paul shakes his head and pretends to be fully awake.

"...no. I can run my sims from here. It's your day off, right?"

"Are you saying you're planning to stay in with me, Doctor Stamets?"

"I do occasionally manage to be considerate."

Hugh can feel the smile stretching his lips.

"Occasionally."

"I-" yawn, "really think...we should go to sleep."

"Want me to let you sleep in?"

He pulls the sheets up around his shoulders, waiting for Paul to do the same.

"Nah. Wake me up after your run?"

Hugh's more than amenable to that, thinking of the rare treat of having Paul to himself for an entire day.

"Okay. I love you, sweetheart."

"Mmmm, love you too."

Paul's breathing is slowing, but he's still watching Hugh.

"What?"

"I miss you."

"Me too. Soon, love."

On the screen of his PADD, Paul sighs.

"Not soon enough."

"I know."

They stare at each other across a hundred light years, and Hugh has to remind himself that this is only temporary, that he'll have Paul to sleep beside him every night once Discovery is finished and they launch.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, kissing his fingers and pressing them to the screen.

Paul does the same, the touch lingering.

"Goodnight, Hugh."

Soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set out to write a snippet where Hugh is talking to Paul on his PADD while they're brushing their teeth in separate corners of the galaxy, then realized it would be an even better story if it's not clear until the end. It was fun to figure out how to describe everything that doesn't immediately give it away - when Hugh says Paul is staying in with him, he means with an open comm link the next day to try and make the best of being separated. I'm imagining them both with their PADDs propped up on the bathroom counter, then on the pillow to pretend the other is there. 
> 
> Let me know if this works? I'm running on too little sleep, too much caffeine, and way too much work-related anxiety. Needed some yearning Culmets to soothe my brain.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do love it when you only do things for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is much steamier and sensual than the previous chapters. Oops?

Afterglow looks good on his partner.

If they were younger, Hugh’s positive he’d be ready for a second round just from the sight (and smell) of Paul’s post-sex form. His hair is a mess, sticking out in all directions, especially the patch at the crown where Hugh’s fingers had been buried. Paul’s eyes are half-closed, open just enough to see a sliver of blue peeking out from behind his lashes. Those same blond lashes are in stark contrast to the way his cheeks are still flushed, damp and heated. Kiss-bitten lips part around his toothbrush, and Hugh doesn’t bother pretending he isn’t staring.

He’s not in much better shape himself, although his considerably shorter hair probably bears less signs of passion. Hugh doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know that his own expression matches his movements - languid, pleased, and a bit clumsy. 

They brush their teeth in silence, each propped up with an elbow on the counter. Hugh finishes first, and reaches for a hand towel, rinsing it under the faucet. The warmth of it feels shockingly cool against overheated skin, and he only gives his face and shoulders a cursory swipe before turning to Paul. His partner sets down his toothbrush, eyes still a bit vacant as he tries to focus.

”Mmmmm.”

”Hmmm?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, wiping down Paul’s torso with considerably gentler movements than he used on his own body. The towel gets tossed onto the laundry pile, and he wets a fresh washcloth. Cradling the back of Paul’s head in one hand, Hugh carefully cleans the sweat and other fluids off his face. By the time he’s done, Paul’s eyes are closed and he’s leaning into Hugh’s touch with a sated smile.

”This was good. Tonight.”

Paul’s no longer monosyllabic, which means his brain is slowly coming back online. 

“Yeah. We haven’t like this in a while. Missed it, sweetheart.”

They're both still naked, and it’s a half-step to fit their bodies back together. He wraps his arms securely around Paul’s waist, in case he’s still unsteady on his feet.

”You were-“ Paul sways, caught safely in Hugh’s embrace, “yeah. So good to me.”

He tips forward, head coming to rest on Hugh’s shoulder.

”I love it like this.”

”Yeah?”

”Mmhmm,” he nuzzles at Paul’s cheek, “love when you just...that I can make you stop thinking for a little while.”

Their sex life is already more than satisfying by any measure, playful and comfortable and undemanding. It doesn’t happen often, not when they’re both so _present_ when making love or focused on working each other into a frenzy when it’s hard and fast and rough. Once in a while though, his ever-controlled lover goes mindless in bed, driven only by feeling and physical pleasure. He responds to every touch, every kiss and caress seeming to overwhelm him. Paul loses the ability to speak then, whimpering and writhing beneath Hugh’s body, letting him do as he will.

It’s a privilege, Hugh thinks, to be given that kind of trust and allowed to watch it happen.

”You let me have you,” he murmurs, feeling Paul’s head growing heavier on his shoulder, “thank you.”

”M’all yours anyway,” Paul mumbles into the side of his neck.

Hugh steers them back to bed before one or both of them starts to drift off standing up. He’s surprised when Paul doesn’t immediately fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. Instead, he opens his eyes and scoots a little closer until they’re nose to nose.

”Only you, Hugh.”

Paul’s lips are soft and welcoming as Hugh uses a kiss to say what he can’t find words for. He’s too worn out to properly express his feelings about the magnitude of the gift Paul’s given him, over and over again. Maybe he’ll try to say so over breakfast, but for now...

“I love you sweetheart.”

“Love you. Night.”

 _This impossible man_ , he thinks, _mine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hope this chapter still fits with the rest of the Toothbrush Conversations, even though they’re not actually saying a whole lot.


	9. Chapter 9

"-babe?"

"...what?"

"Where were you just now?"

"Nowhere. Right here."

"Paul..."

"Sorry."

"What's on your mind?"

"Hmph. Lorca."

"Something in particular?"

"Quit trying to be professional."

"All right. What is it this time?"

"Nothing specific. I just...there's something off."

"Yeah."

"I get that there's people who don't understand my science. Most people."

"Very modest, Doctor Stamets."

"It's true."

"Babe, I don't think Lorca cares about anything that doesn't fire particle beams."

"I know, but there's something else. I can't put my finger on it."

"Me too. Do I need to put you on medical stand down?"

"Hugh, I'm fine."

"If he's riding your ass, I'm not above very legitimately logging my concerns for your exhausted physical and mental state." 

"I'll be okay."

"As your physician and your partner, do I get a say in that?"

"Of course. Obviously- I didn't mean- fuck, you know what I mean."

"Sorry. Just feeling edgy lately."

"I love you."

"I love you too...Bed?"

"Yeah, in a sec, I'll be right there."

"Okay."

"...Hugh?"

"Sweetheart?"

"You're helping by being here. You know that, right?"

"I hate that I can't make it stop. Or make it work."

"I know. But you're looking after me."

"It doesn't feel like enough."

"It is. More than enough. More than I could ever ask for."

"You deserve it. I...I'd do anything to make it better." 

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Right now, I need a kiss, and for you to quit worrying about me."

"You can have all you want of the first, and I don't think the second is possible, at least until this war is over."

"I know. But- until then? Just...be with me."

"Shhh. I'm not going anywhere. Promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is supposed to just be happy / less angsty, but I had to write this one. Bittersweet, but I hope poignant.


	10. Chapter 10

"So today was awful, but you knew that already," Paul mutters.

It's quiet in the bathroom save for the sound of breathing and the nearly inaudible whir of his toothbrush. Hugh doesn't offer a reply to that statement - rhetorical in any case. He glances up at the mirror, but it's still fogged around the edges with steam from the shower. Paul reaches for a towel to wipe it, and the reflection sharpens into his own tired eyes, running on too little sleep and too many unknowns in today's spore drive power shortage. They'd eventually traced the problem to a worn out coupler deep in Jefferies Tube 12, but it had taken hours of frustrating checks to find where the redundancies had failed.

He rinses his mouth, drops the wet towel into the laundry pile, and turns to head for bed. The sheets are cool and crisp, raising static against his pajamas, and he wriggles over until his head is resting on Hugh's pillow. 

"Guessing your day was a little better, at least you weren't up to your elbows in coolant."

The empty nightstand taunts him, and Paul rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. 

He used to talk to Hugh in the mirror after he died, and it was a source of comfort believing that his love was still there with him, listening and looking after Paul when he was too careless to look after himself. Every night, he'd tell him about his day, imagining Hugh patiently taking it in with that half-smile he'd give Paul any time he was frustrated and needed a sympathetic ear. He'd go to sleep on his side of the bed, curled towards Hugh's pillow. Sometimes, just on the edge of waking, he could even feel Hugh's arms around him and his breath on the back of Paul's neck before the dream fell away and he was forced back into a universe without him.

Now, knowing Hugh is back among the living is almost worse than when he was dead. Paul doesn't get to see Hugh roll his eyes when he complains about the way Hugh kicks the sheets out at the end of the bed. He doesn't trip over his boots dropped carelessly in the middle of the floor, or lean on the wet towel left hanging off the edge of the bathroom counter. There's no making Hugh a cup of coffee to go along with his own, or a kiss goodbye at the door in the morning. He's not waiting for Paul to come home with a long-suffering sigh or fallen asleep on the couch with a PADD in hand. 

After rescuing him and Tilly, Paul had had a few hours to truly believe that everything would be just as it was- no, it would be better. When he brought Hugh home from the medbay, all of those empty places inside would be full again. He could look forward to bickering in the shower over who left the cap off the toothpaste, to having a quiet dinner together. Would wake up in the warmth of their bed far too early as Hugh kissed his shoulder before heading out on his morning run. And he could fall asleep curled up with him, a second chance to live the rest of their lives together.

Instead, he's somewhere else on the ship tonight, sleeping in a bed that he doesn't share with Paul, brushing his teeth alone at the mirror. 

Sometimes, that's what Paul misses most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this one! I couldn't get the image out of my head. I firmly believe Paul continued to talk to Hugh, which is why having his things still in their quarters made him feel like he wasn't as alone. And after Hugh comes back and moves out, that emptiness was probably worse than just his absence.
> 
> Promise I'll move these back towards fluff.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot pre-Discovery.

"What time is your shuttle tomorrow?"

Hugh tries to grimace, but the handle of his toothbrush is in the way. The look he gives Paul - wrapped in a towel and freshly showered - is three parts appreciative and one part sad. He leans down to rinse and packs his toothbrush back in his kit before answering.

"Did you have to remind me?"

"Sorry."

It's been a wonderful two weeks between postings, but the duffel sitting mostly packed on the floor next to the bed can't be ignored. They've hiked and tried the new Vulcan restaurant that everyone is wild about, had a picnic overlooking a windswept canyon, and Hugh even managed to drag Paul into a club to go dancing (Hugh danced and Paul very self-consciously tried to melt into the floor once the music slowed and dancing turned into a vertical version of what he'd much rather be horizontal doing in private). No matter how much they don't want to think about it though, the truth of the matter is that Hugh has to be on a shuttle in eight hours, and it never feels like they have enough time together.

He reaches out and pulls Paul to him by the folded over edge of the towel, resting his head on his bare shoulder.

"Nah, I shouldn't have snapped."

Paul sighs, working his hands underneath Hugh's pajama shirt to settle at the small of his back.

"This was good, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Really good, babe."

They stay like that until the steam clears from the mirror, then Paul turns to the sink to brush his teeth. Hugh doesn't let go, just shifts until he can circle Paul's waist with his arms and kiss the back of his neck. 

"Bed?"

"Bed."

Paul tosses his towel into the laundry bin, giving Hugh a gentle push to propel him forward. On the way, Hugh shoves his duffel out of the way with his foot rather more forcefully than the action warrants. Sadly, the folded clothes inside give rather unsatisfyingly against his kick.

When he turns back to the bed, Paul is slipping between the sheets naked and watching him expectantly. He starts to do likewise, pausing with his hands on the hem of his shirt and simply stares.

"Hugh?"

_He's so beautiful._

Propped up on one elbow, the sheets pool around Paul's waist, their deep navy contrasting wonderfully with his bare skin. Hugh could always grab his PADD and take a holoimage or even a video to preserve the moment. The camera would faithfully reproduce the hint of a smile lingering at the edges of his mouth that appears whenever Hugh is with him, but it could never capture the love in his gaze.

"...are you okay?"

Paul's frowning a little, and Hugh shakes his head.

"Just...appreciating the view."

"Ahh. Well," the frown vanishes, and he holds up the covers invitingly, "can you appreciate it from here?"

"Yeah, I suppose I could do that."

He's teasing Paul now, and is rewarded with a dramatic eyeroll.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Hugh strips off his shirt and pants, climbs up onto the mattress and into Paul's outstretched arms. There's a few moments of shifting, arranging their limbs so that no one has an elbow in the chest. It's not quite comfortable, so he rolls them until he's on his back with Paul on top, bringing his legs up to echo the embrace their arms are sharing and squeezing Paul's hips between his thighs. 

Despite their nudity, Hugh doubts they'll have sex again tonight. They've had plenty already to make up for the time apart, and the pure sensual pleasure of connection is amazing, but right now he wants to savor every last second together. That definitely includes kissing though, and he runs his hand through Paul's damp hair before pulling him down until their lips meet.

"You know," Paul murmurs against his cheek when they have to separate for air, "once Discovery launches, we can do this every night."

Hugh grins up at him, running the pad of his thumb over Paul's cheek.

"Yeah. Unless you think you'll get tired of me?"

It's said in jest, but Paul picks up on the undercurrent of insecurity.

"Never."

"Even if I insist we eat dinner naked, hold your hand all the time, and follow you into the shower?"

"Especially if you shower with me. I can't wait to have one big enough for both of us."

"Mmmm. Can't wait to fall asleep like this every night. We'll get to," he pauses, trying to pin down just one thing, "...brush our teeth together. Everything. "

Paul's eyes are shining with affection, and Hugh has to kiss him again. And again.

And again.

They fall asleep entwined around 0300. Paul's going to wake up with a very sore neck and complain when Hugh has to squirm out from under him to use the bathroom at 0600, but for now, everything is perfect.


	12. Chapter 12

” ‘id ooo ‘owwwrwahh?”

Paul blinks at Hugh in the mirror, eyebrows communicating that he didn’t understand what was just said. 

“Whuh?”

Instead of turning his toothbrush off, much less taking it out of his mouth, Hugh repeats himself with slower, exaggerated enunciation.

“ ‘id ooo ‘oww err waww?”

It’s even less clear this time, but Paul’s almost done anyway, waiting until after they’ve both rinsed to reply.

”I have no idea what you just said.”

Hugh loosens the towel at his waist, pulling it off and running one end through his hair.

”Did you comm your mom?”

”Uhhh. No?”

”Okay.”

He starts to drop the towel and Paul reaches out to catch it, tossing it at the laundry pile instead of the middle of the floor. The smirk Hugh gives him means he knew Paul was going to do that. It turns into a yelp of surprise as Paul pinches a generous amount of firm flesh on his bare backside in “revenge”.

“Why?”

Hugh rubs his ass with far more attention than the gesture warrants, and answers in a deceptively casual tone.

”Abuela wants to know if your parents want to come to Christmas dinner.”

There’s a clunk followed by Paul cursing quietly as he fumbles his glass into the sink.

Hugh’s family celebrated Christmas much the same as many other humans - an emphasis on bringing together as many family members as possible from their far-flung locales. The holiday was almost sacred in a way, Hugh’s grandmother presiding over the extremely full table. Paul would learn that dinner more closely resembled an ambassadorial reception, with a seemingly endless parade of dishes and traditions. 

He’d brought Paul home for the holidays last year, and Paul couldn’t remember being nearly as nervous defending his dissertations as he was meeting the Culber family matriarch. Aida might have been close to one hundred, but her sharp eyes had sized him up almost immediately, taking in the vise grip he had on Hugh’s hand after being enthusiastically hugged hello by everyone and watching him blush as Hugh was teased by his cousins for landing “the other kind of doctor”. 

She’d found him again on the back deck as he stole outside for a break from the bustle of voices and heat of the kitchen, extracting a promise to take care of Hugh and quietly accepting him into the family in the same conversation. Spending time with Hugh’s family, Aida in particular, helped complete the picture he had of his partner, and he’d lost the majority of his self-conscious reservations by the time they left three days later.

“Sweetheart?”

”...hmmm?”

Paul’s brought out of his thoughts by Hugh’s gently concerned voice. He must take Paul’s silence for reluctance, because his smile is a little wobbly around the edges.

”It’s okay if they don’t want to, or if you don’t feel comfortable asking-“

“No! No, I mean, I just...I was surprised. I thought it was just family.”

“You’re family.”

Wrapping his arms around Hugh’s waist, Paul kisses the frown on his forehead, shaking his head at the misunderstanding. 

”I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

Hugh still looks worried, but he follows when Paul pulls him out of the bathroom and into bed.

”She doesn’t want you to feel like you have to skip out on your family to be with mine.”

He honestly hadn’t given much thought to this year’s celebrations, expecting perhaps a day or two with his parents before joining Hugh. Christmas in the Stamets household paled in comparison to what he experienced with the Culbers, and while he loved seeing his family, he knows he’d be missing Hugh the entire time anyway. (And he certainly can’t imagine having sex the way they had with _his_ parents just down the hall).

”I’ll ask my mom, but can you let your abuela know they might not even be on-planet?”

”Of course. She just wanted you to know that they’re welcome to join us.”

He nods, fussing with the covers until they’re wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets against the evening chill. Paul hadn’t anticipated Aida adopting him as yet another grandchild (down to receiving “care packages”), but he couldn't possibly doubt or object to her affection. 

“Tell her thank you for me, please.”

Hugh kisses his temple, snuffling into Paul’s hair with a quiet sigh before settling nose to nose on the pillow.

“She was going to comm you herself to ask, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated to answer immediately. You know how she is.”

Paul chuckles and they share a smile.

”When she gets the Professor voice?”

“Mmhmm.”

He hums in contentment as Hugh slips a knee between his thighs, rubbing his foot over Paul’s calf.

”Love you.”

”Love you too, sweetheart,” Hugh murmurs, pausing as Paul shivers when the covers shift and a draft sneaks in, “do you want clothes?”

“Nuh uhh. Got you to keep me warm.”

”Always. Unless you stick your cold hands on my balls again, then you’re on your own.”

Paul gasps in mock indignation.

”I’ll have you know, I was trying to warm them up before I touched you, but you moved.”

”Suuuure.”

“I-“ he yawns hugely, “sleep?”

He tips his chin up for a series of chaste, close-mouthed goodnight kisses, letting Hugh pull him closer. 

“Sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head on over to Chapter 107 (“Shovel Talk”) of We Go Together to read about Paul’s first meeting with Hugh’s grandmother :)


End file.
